Friend, Foe, or Lover
by AmeriShenokie
Summary: Arthur already can't stand Alfred, but he'll have to eventually prove just what he really thinks of him--even after sets of denial and betrayal. Rated M for explicit sexual references, moderate-strong language, etc. USxUK. Slight RusAm in future chapters.
1. Something Important

A/N ~ My first Hetalia fanfic (obviously still in-the-making)... lol Decided to start off light for now with a bit of comedy, but its primary genre will be more on the angsty side in later chapters. :'B And I'm currently writing the second chapter right now, so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait for it...

–

**Chapter One: Something Important**

From outside a little house, the giant clock chimed a loud four times along with its notorious musical melody; _ding-dong-ding-dong—ding-ding-ding-ding-dong... Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!_

"_Tea time,"_ a young man thought to himself as he heard the chimes. He then walked over to his kitchen and prepared a small cup of tea as he took a small bite of a scone. It wasn't long before he just remembered something _supposedly_ important that he had to do that same day; something that he wasn't all that excited about doing really...

"Dammit!" he scolded himself when he finally realized, "Alfred told me that he had something important to tell me today!" He glanced back out to Big Ben outside. Two minutes past. "He told me to meet him at four," he scowled, trying to return his attention back to his tea, "But he also should have realize that I value my tea time everyday... And besides, since when has he ever been any more important than my special time alone to when I can just relax and do what I like for myself?" He took a sip from the porcelain teacup, relaxed as if he didn't even had the task of his belated visit. "He can wait..." he added and continued on with his precious tea time.

–

Once tea time was over, he put everything away and finally took a trip to Alfred's place. On his way, he tried to deny how wrong he was to possibly upset Alfred by his lateness and claimed that he could have had more important things to do that afternoon. "I can't see how this could be so important..." the blond Brit muttered.

Soon, his thoughts were being interrupted with the ever-growing loud rock music that blasted from Alfred's house. Typical. It was habit for him to play his music as loud as he pleased—especially during the weekends—and, needless to say, he constantly got in trouble for it from his intolerant neighbors.

"Alfred! It's me, Arthur!" he shouted, trying to get his voice loud enough for the other to hear. No answer. "Alfred!" he attempted even louder, knocking on the door. Still no answer. Arthur sighed exasperatingly. He knew at that point that Alfred wouldn't be able to hear him over that obnoxious noise he referred to as "music." Arthur had spent the time to actually visit him, and he didn't plan to simply turn back just because of the music playing. _"I'm not going to be beat against this—this racket!"_ he mentally told himself, looking for some way inside Alfred's house.

He then noticed that the front door wasn't even locked. "That stupid little git..." he muttered. Arthur knew that he'd raised Alfred better than to leave a front door unlocked. _"Doesn't he realize that just anyone could simply get in?"_ he worried.

As soon as he opened the door, the music just seemed to have gone louder. Arthur covered his ears as he walked inside the house. He knew that his ears would keep ringing as if there was no tomorrow as he trudged closer to Alfred's stereo in an attempt to turn off the music it blasted. It was painful for him, but a success, nonetheless. With Alfred's house quiet from the loud music, Arthur sat on the floor, sighing and panting in relief as his poor ears rang to get readjusted to return to simplicity.

Alfred, still unaware of the music being off, walked into the room still singing and dancing to the rock music. Arthur was a bit shocked by what he saw, yet, at the same time, he wasn't surprised at the young American's shoddy appearance; Alfred's hair was unkempt and he wore nothing but a messy sleeveless shirt and boxers. And he noticed one other thing...

"Headphones?!" Arthur gaped, glancing at them from Alfred's ears. Alfred had been playing ear-bleeding music from both his stereo _and_ his portable player! No wonder he didn't hear Arthur's shouts and knocks at the door... That was it; Arthur couldn't take such foolery from Alfred anymore; they haven't even said anything since Arthur's arrival and he was starting to get fed up with him. He stood back up and stormed over to Alfred and snatched them off from his ears.

It was only then when Alfred even noticed that Arthur had finally came over. "Hey Arthur," he simply chuckled, acting as if he had done nothing wrong to have upset him.

However, Arthur was a little far from upset at the blond American. His mouth and heavy brows lowered into an angered frown. He wanted to scold Alfred. _"Alfred... When will you ever__ learn?"_ he asked, trying to keep himself calm.

Alfred wondered what was the matter. "Learn what?" he asked innocently.

Arthur stammered for a moment, not knowing where to begin, then for a moment, he paused to recollect himself. "Never mind," he quietly and calmly said, glancing downward, "You're just a bit hopeless is all..."

"_Hopeless?"_ Alfred wondered. Arthur's words had forced him to become silent for a while. He knew that he and Arthur have had their share of bickering and troubled times before, but he really never intended to gain Arthur's disapproval. But before he could even say anything, the other spoke.

"So, what was so important that needed my attention today?" Arthur asked, trying to change the subject. As much as he wanted to cuss the other out, he was still too much of a British gentleman to resort to that level, and he stuck to that reason alone.

Alfred then snapped back into his usual self when he remembered the reason why he had invited Arthur over that day. "Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed, a minute smile going across his face once again, "I wanted to show you something today! Come on." With that, he walked off, gesturing the other to follow him. And with a sigh, the young British gentleman followed him to see what this "important" thing was.

It wasn't long at all before they'd reached Alfred's backyard. Arthur figured that it had to do with the location; his eyes searched around to find this certain item. However, everything seemed to be as how it used to be, granted that Alfred's yard was a tad messier compared to his prideful gardens. His personal search soon got interrupted by Alfred's words.

"Here!" Alfred said, rather cheerful in his tone. Arthur glanced over to his direction, and he saw it. "It's a new grill! It's one of those really cool special 'tropical' grills," Alfred stated excitedly, "Like it?"

Arthur didn't know what to say. It _was_ a nice-looking grill, yes; however... "How is _this_ 'important,' Alfred?" he asked.

"Well, since you never really liked my so-called 'greasy heart-attacks-on-a-bun' hamburgers," the American explained, "Then now I can just bar-be-que 'em instead! And still get a new luau flavor on each one!"

Arthur wasn't really impressed. To him, a new grill wasn't all _that_ important. He crossed his arms, closing his eyes as his head tilted downwards toward the ground. "Is this all what you brought me over for this afternoon?" he asked, glaring at Alfred.

"Um… Yeah…?" the other replied, suddenly a little nervous in his tone of voice.

Arthur then scoffed exasperatedly as he turned and stormed off from the yard. "He called me over for _this_?!" he angrily muttered under his breath so Alfred couldn't hear him, "Of all the idiotic things…"

Alfred pursued after Arthur, wondering what the matter was. "Arthur?" he called out, eventually catching up to him, "Arthur, what's wrong?" However, Arthur wasn't interested in responding, and he simply ignored the clueless American as he just walked out of his house. Alfred tried to stop Arthur from leaving. "Artie?" he asked, "Please talk to me."

It was then when Arthur stopped at the bottom of Alfred's front porch steps. He sighed deeply to recollect his thoughts for a moment. "Alfred…" he began, "I thought that today you had something really important to tell me today." He turned slightly around to face Alfred. "However," he continued, "You're still the predictable twat as always…" Alfred glanced downward in humiliation from Arthur's words as the blond Brit turned back to head back home. "I don't know why I thought that today would've been different," Arthur added, "Or why I somehow didn't expect it from you…"

And before Alfred could say anything, Arthur just started his walk back home. "Talk to me when you really _do_ have something meaningful…" was Arthur's final words to him as Alfred watched him walk off to the distant horizon.

"This _was_ meaningful…" Alfred whispered to himself, a little tear silently trailing down his cheek, "I just—I just wanted to…"

--

A/N ~ The grill's really supposed to represent Hawaii... :'B lol -shot- Okay, so I really don't know about official stuff when it comes to that sort of thing when it comes to "representing" stuff... Anyway, this whole chapter might've seemed a bit krack-ish at the start, but you'll see that there's meaning to this in the future chapters! :'O Especially with America's closing quote... :3 lol


	2. Conflicting Tensions

A/N ~ Finally got through finishing chapter two! :3

This is actually a little tense than how I'd usually view JoKir (aside from the Revolutionary War bits)... It seems a little OOC for Alfred, who I like seeing as either the cheerful carefree idiot (I mean it affectionately) or a bit on the angsty side in order to get Arthur's attention; just my opinion, of course... But it seemed a little necessary with how the fanfic will be written in future chapters.

In other words, I'm trying to tie in all the chapters together in some way (things you read now will be mentioned later and things you read later will be reflected back in earlier chapters). :'B It's a rather new style I'm trying to develop... :'3 lol

Anyway, just enjoy the chapter.....!!!

--

**Chapter Two: Conflicting Tensions**

–

As Arthur walked back home, he recollected his memory on his visit to Alfred's house, but the thoughts just frustrated him. "That twat!" he muttered to himself, "I thought I raised him better than to do something so stupid as to calling me over just to show me a new grill for his fucking hamburgers, listening to such a racket from both headphones and his stereo, and—and…" He groaned exasperatedly before he could continue finishing his list of reasons.

"What's the matter, Arthur-san?" a small voice asked him.

As the British man turned, he saw who had come to talk to him. "Ah, it's you, Flufftails..." he greeted his best at his green flying rabbit friend. Arthur tried forcing a smile, but he knew that his little friend could see right past that. "It's just Alfred again..." he explained, "That idiot wasted my time today."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Flufftails pouted, "But you know that we'll cheer you up right away if you like..."

"'We'?" Arthur asked, already feeling a little better with the thought, "You mean the others are here too, Flufftails?"

"Yeah-huh!" Flufftails giggled, fluttering around Arthur joyfully, "You know we're always around to bring that happy face back on you!"

"Flufftails is right, Arthur..." another voice agreed. Arthur looked in the voice's direction to find a tall man with pointed-ears; it was Mr. Tontoes, another one of Arthur's special friends. He had the others along with him, all coming to make Arthur happy again. "Even if that Alfred ruins your day," he stated, "You can always count on us!" Arthur's other friends, a small fairy and a little unicorn, nodded in agreement.

This time, Arthur really couldn't help but smile. "Aww... Thanks, guys," he smiled rather cheerfully, "What would I ever do without you all?" At this point, he had nearly forgotten about Alfred's foolishness from earlier that afternoon, and he decided to spend the rest of his journey back home, socializing with his little friends.

–

Meanwhile, Alfred was wondering what exactly he did wrong.

"I wonder why Arthur left so quickly..." he muttered, "Maybe it was something I said?" He thought for a moment. "Can't be..." he decided, "Heroes always say the right thing, so it'd be impossible for me to screw up what I say! If anything, he likely just didn't understand it..."

He walked around the house, eventually reaching a mirror along the hallway's wall. He glanced and studied his reflection. He knew that the Brit cared greatly on clothing and appearance, but both of them were at very different levels of the threshold of being appealing. "I know he doesn't like it when I dress like this," Alfred said to his reflection, pouting, "But I always wear this inside the house. Do I really need to be wearing such formal suits casually too?" The thought of always wearing formal wear on a daily basis didn't seem pleasing at all, and with that, Alfred walked away from the mirror.

"He seemed fine earlier when I called him..." he stated, remembering earlier, before Arthur's short-lived visit, "What else could it be?"

He then walked past the back door, and he noticed the new grill that Kiko had given him. For a brief moment, Alfred simply stood there, pensive in his thoughts as he stared at the object. "Could it be...?" he uttered, his eyes still locked onto the grill.

Not a moment too soon, Alfred's stomach growled. "Could it be that I'm really hungry already?" he asked himself, smiling naively, "Lunch seemed so forever ago! If I don't count that little snack I had earlier before Arthur came over..." With that, he went over to the kitchen to make a hamburger for dinner.

"I should really test that new thing out!" he exclaimed excitedly. But just as soon as he got carefree that moment, he suddenly got hit with a depressing emotion. He realized why he wanted Arthur over at his house earlier; not just because to show him his new material possession, but—

_Ring!_

Before Alfred could continue his chain of thought, he became distracted from his cell phone ringing obnoxiously. The melancholic thought he had drifted away from his mind as he searched his person for his cell phone. Seconds later, he found it and he glanced on the caller ID display to see who was calling him.

"Arthur?" he noticed. He flipped the phone to accept the call. _"Maybe he's not so pissed off anymore,"_ he wondered, _"...Or maybe he's just going to yell at me some more. He's been doing that quite a lot lately; no matter what I tend to do__ around him__..."_

He brought the phone closer to him. "Hello..." he answered, trying to hide even the slightest bit of any sign of nervousness in his tone, "Arthur?"

"Hi, Alfred," Arthur said, his voice calmer than earlier and less than what Alfred had expected, "Listen... I had talked it over with everyone, and—"

"'Talked it over with everyone'?" Alfred asked, rudely interrupting Arthur. He had a bad subconscious habit of interrupting whoever spoke to him, which annoyed Arthur greatly—in which Alfred had never truly bothered to even notice most of the time. "Like who?" he asked curiously, wondering who these others were.

Arthur decided to skip the whole lecture with Alfred on how much of a pet peeve interruptions were to him and keep on the point of his discussion, as well as the reason of him calling. "Shouldn't you know?" he asked, "Because I'm very sure you already do know them by now. At least, you better..."

Alfred paused in silence for a moment, still a little clueless. _"Surely not 'everyone' as in the other people we know..."_ he puzzled mentally.

Arthur sensed how quiet he was and decided to tell him. "Alfred... You know my friends," he stated, "Flufftails, Mr. Tontoes, Glitterhorn, and Ms. Sparkletoes..."

The American was speechless, merely stammering a bit surprisingly in response. _"He's been talking to his imaginary fri__ends again?"_ he figured. Thinking to himself, he somehow felt that he should have expected that from Arthur. He had always been mentioning about such "friends" before in other—commonly random and the most awkward of—situations.

"Alfred?" the other asked, wondering if he's still even listening.

"Y-yeah..." he responded, rather flat in his tone of voice. He then snapped himself out of such cynical views. "Um, Arthur?" he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Arthur was a little curious on why he'd be the one to ask him that. Then again, he could have been asking about his short-tempered behavior earlier. "Well, that's what I called you about," he explained, "It's about now and how I was acting earlier..."

"No," Alfred disagreed, shaking his head even though he knew that Arthur couldn't actually see the gesture, "I meant about your 'friends'."

The British gentleman paused for a second with his thoughts. "What about them?" he finally asked him.

"Well," Alfred began, "Aren't you a little old to have imaginary friends, Arthur?"

Arthur was offended. "They're not imaginary at all!" he yelled, "They're all as real as you and me!" He gave it a second thought. "Actually," he added, "I believe that they're more real than you can ever be..."

"Well, you must be just like them! Nothing but invisible!" Alfred yelled back, feeling offense from Arthur's words, "You are who you talk to, after all..."

"I'm invisible?!" Arthur argued, "If it weren't for me, you would still be nothing but a lonely little welp hiding in the bushes!" He was much too livid at that moment, blinded to even remember what he really thought of Alfred way back then. "And that's 'you are what you eat', you useless git! And it's plain to see about you..." he added, "But since you're using that against yourself, I guess I better just quit talking to _someone_ who's 'invisible'!"

"Then why don't you...?" Alfred dared.

"Don't think I won't," the other taunted, and with that, he carelessly hung up all of a sudden on the young American.

It was only then Alfred realized who Arthur had indicated to be "invisible." He glared at the empty phone and sighed exasperatedly. "Who needs you anyway...?" he quietly muttered, pushing his phone away to the other end of a nearby coffee table as he sat by himself, glaring at the phone. Alfred's current mood had just ruined his appetite for dinner that night, and he heavily blamed Arthur for it—especially since his egocentric pride would not ever admit his _own_ constant faults.

–

Arthur, on the other hand, was really in no mood to talk to anyone. The only exceptions to any of his anti-social behavior were really his so-called "imaginary friends" by how Alfred commonly put it. And they conveniently arrived to help him feel better.

Ms. Sparkletoes, the fairy, and Glitterhorn, the unicorn, happened to walk by from outside the room, and they noticed the frustrated young man when they glanced from the other side of the door. They then walked up to Arthur.

"Um, Arthur?" Ms. Sparkletoes quietly asked, careful not to upset him any further than he was at that moment, "Arthur?" With no reply from him, the two looked at each other then glanced back at their human friend. Glitterhorn slowly walked up to him. "Arthur?" he asked, lowering his head as he eventually got closer to try and look at Arthur's face in order to gain some of his attention, "Is everything okay?"

"Hm?" Arthur glanced, only then noticing them there, "Oh... Hey, you two... Sorry, I didn't hear you a second ago." He sat more upward from his depressed slumped posture. "And, no. I don't think everything is as okay as I'd want it to be, Glitterhorn," he stated, "I've had better times than right now..."

Ms. Sparkletoes fluttered herself closer to them. "Didn't your conversation with Alfred work?" she asked.

Arthur shook his head slightly. "No..." he softly said, his voice involuntarily breaking, "…I guess it didn't..." He paused for a moment to sigh as his two friends could only watch his misery. "I think things have taken a turn for the worst," he quietly added. And for the next several moments, he explained about his tense phone conversation that he had with Alfred; how it ended and what he thinks would happen from then on.

He paused for a while after explaining, thinking to himself as he began to look deeper and further ahead on the matter. "You know, when I really look at it," he uttered quietly, "He's not even worth being glanced at…" His two friends wondered what he meant. "That bloody twat only thinks so highly of himself," Arthur continued, "Why do I even bother with him at all?!"

Unfortunately, Ms. Sparkletoes and Glitterhorn didn't know what to say to him. They tended to let Arthur and Alfred keep their personal relationship to themselves. All they could do is try and comfort their dear friend and try to get his mind off the matter for a while.

--

Back in Alfred's house, he was seeking a bit of counseling to ease his mind from the earlier conversation as well. Fortunately, he had his alien roommate, Tony. However, unlike Arthur's friends, who tend to come over to England for his troubles, Alfred had to look around for Tony around the house. He searched the rooms for him.

Eventually, as Alfred should have expected, Tony was possibly in his own room. The blond American walked up to the door. Above the doorknob, was a sticker with "51" that was noticeable whenever one were to enter the room; Alfred never really got used to seeing it. He sighed and opened the door, and just as usual, Tony was inside, playing with that same zombie-shooting game that Alfred had bought after Christmas a few years back.

"Tony?" Alfred meekly asked, seeking attention, "Got a moment?" The little alien apparently didn't hear him, continuing on his game. Again, Alfred made an attempt at getting Tony's attention. "Uh… Tony?" he asked, a little louder in his voice. The alien curiously turned towards him, pausing the game as he did.

Alfred walked up to him and told Tony what had happened. Tony didn't know what to do exactly as well; however, he wasn't even all that fond of Arthur anyway.

"I don't know what to do about Arthur," Alfred pouted, "I only seem like a failure to him, messing up or acting stupid in front of him all the time." For quite a while, he thought more of what he could do.

"Maybe…" Alfred finally said after a few minutes, "Maybe it's time to end us…?" And Tony just nodded in approval.

--

A/N ~ First of all, some trivia... The "51" sticker on Tony's room door represents "Area 51" (and it _will_ be mentioned again later on in the fanfic). However, I'm not sure if there's anything officially canon about the "Area 51" concept; if it is, it's coincidental... :'B;;;

Also, I'm not sure about the ending... D: It was just kinda slapped together, but the general idea of what Alfred says at the very end stays (I just feel that I brought it up too quickly--but I didn't want to do a similar "repeat" scene like with Arthur's friends). And speaking of Arthur's "imaginary friends," I'm not sure if they have any official names, so I made them up on my own... X3;;;

Okay... I'll be working on chapter three now. :B Hopefully that'll be up soon!


	3. Arthur's Nightmare

–

**Chapter Three: Arthur's Nightmare**

–

That night, Arthur sat by himself in his easy-chair. He was pensive in his thoughts over the earlier events. His friends were nearby, all asleep in a pile among themselves, distracting the young Englishman for a moment. It was a rather cute sight for him to see, and it eased his troubling mind, bringing a minute smile on his face. "If only that mindless twat brought me such fascination..." he softly muttered to himself.

Arthur then decided to make a cup of tea for himself. _"It'll help calm me down..."_ the blond gentleman figured, walking towards the kitchen and heating a small kettle. The lingering thoughts still lay obsessed in his mind as he waited for the tea to be completed. "Stupid Alfred..." he uttered, his arms crossed and his thick eyebrows frowning downward from his forehead. It wasn't long before the little tea kettle began to whistle for his attention. He turned off the stove-top and took out a cup and saucer from the cupboard. He made the cup of tea and went back to his easy-chair, hoping that he'll set his mind at ease for once.

"Mmm..." he sipped. The tea worked for a short while; his nerves one-by-one relaxing. "What would I do without my tea?" Arthur asked himself, glancing contentedly at his reflection inside the small teacup. He took another sip.

–

Although, within moments of finishing off the tea, the young Brit yawned. It was late, and he grew tired. The tea was able to make him feel emotionally better, but lacked the ability to keep him awake for even a while to let himself get to bed. Instead, he gradually drifted to sleep right there comfortably in his easy-chair. He soon began to dream; however, they were far from anything soothing. If anything, they were possibly the lingering thoughts that had been locked away deep in Arthur's mind while he had his late tea time.

In his dream, Arthur found himself, at first, all alone in barren nothingness. He looked all around to get his bearings as to where exactly he was, but nothing seemed familiar to him; it just looked like a misty and cloudy field everywhere around him. "Where the hell am I?" he questioned, starting to panic.

At that moment, he heard muddy footsteps approaching from behind him. He gasped, swiftly turning around to face just who it was that was approaching. The figure was a mere silhouette covered by the surrounding thick fog, but began to become clearer as he came closer to the young man. Arthur was surprised to see who it was...

"Alfred?!" he exclaimed. The young American simply stood there, his expression stern and blank. He was dressed in a blue uniform and carrying a musket in his hands. "You..." Alfred uttered in a low voice, "...Are my enemy..."

"_What the—?! His 'enemy'?!"_ Arthur wondered, _"What could _possibly_ be going on in that retarded idiot's head to even _think_ such an absurd concept?!"_ But before he could even think a little further into the perplexing matter or even come up with an explanation, he then noticed that Alfred started to point the musket directly at him. Arthur now didn't know what to do to help himself then and there; all he could do was just stand there in front of Alfred, hopeless.

"I don't love you... And I never, ever _have_ loved you to begin with..." Alfred continued to speak, still very serious in his tone of voice and pointing the musket at his target, "Don't you ever think of something so repulsively wrong and stupid!" He then started to aim at Arthur, his concentration growing more focused at him. "And if you do," he warned, not losing sight, "I'll shoot you where you stand!" Alfred was different, very different, than the Alfred that Arthur knew in reality. He would never have had the heart to actually annihilate him; let alone, even have the courage to even _say_ those words! Unfortunately, _this_ Alfred seemed like he could care less of the outcome if he fired the musket and looked as if he really would if Arthur would make the simplest move.

For a moment, the two stood away from each other; one determined with blood-lust in mind, and the other confused from the situation.

Arthur risked a test. He slowly held out his hands and barely shifted his feet on the ground, moving ever slightly closer to the crazed American. And just as he suspected—though, it was a misfortune for him of what he had hoped that wouldn't happen—his actions only seemed to have infuriated Alfred even further.

"Stop!" Alfred barked a warning.

The British man now stood still, debating whether or not he should dare pursue in pushing Alfred's rage even further. Maybe talking and trying to force reason into Alfred's head would calm the scenario.

"Alfred, listen to me!" Arthur commanded, trying to be as strict and dominant in his tone. The last thing he wanted was to allow the other have the advantage, especially if being held at gunpoint. "You are corruptly insane!" he continued, "Are you trying to get me killed?!"

"That's entirely the point..." Alfred responded. His voice gave a subtle sarcastic-like tone, yet it seemed to be like he wasn't even joking around to begin with and was planning to kill Arthur, regardless of what the young Brit said or did to prevent it from happening. It was also as if he had never given it a second thought to the question.

Even though this was still a dream, Arthur was still cautious. "Alfred..." he stated, trying to remain calm, "Please..." Unfortunately, the other was unmoved by the petty plea. "Alfred, I know you, and you know me..." the blond gentleman added, "And I know that you don't want to do this..."

"And how the hell would _you_ know anything about _me_?" Alfred asked with a slight growl, interrupting Arthur from continuing, "Do you really have to control whatever I think? Whatever I say? Whatever I do?"

Arthur was speechless for a moment. He didn't know exactly how to reply to that, nor did he feel that he wanted to. His own level of self-pride disallowed his mind to ever search deep within himself for the answers. He decided to counter with a question of his own. "But _why_ would you think any of that?" the Brit asked.

"It's just what I said to you earlier!" Alfred exclaimed, "You are my enemy! Nothing more!"

"'Nothing more'?" Arthur questioned.

"Don't fuck with me!" Alfred demanded, "I'm not stupid!"

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. "But you are, Alfred!" he argued, pointing at the other man, "You're facing that damn musket at me like I were about to kill you myself!"

There was an eerie silence from Alfred for a second. He lowered his aim, but his expression remained unchanged. "I'm not blind either, you bastard..." he uttered.

"And what the hell do you mean by that?" Arthur asked, demanding an explanation from the odd American.

"Don't you see, yourself?" Alfred scoffed, gesturing his musket to point towards Arthur.

Arthur looked around him, wondering what Alfred had meant, but he soon noticed that something was different about him—his clothes; they've changed! They were no longer his casual British wear, but he was now in a red militia uniform. _"When the hell did _this_ happen?!"_ he mentally asked himself.

"Well...?" Alfred coaxed, clutching onto his musket, alert of any sudden movements the other might attempt against him, "Aren't you going to live up to what you said?"

"About me trying to kill you?" Arthur guessed, assuming that's what the American meant, "If that's the case, then you are more wrong than you have been about everything else you've presumed."

Alfred glared at the Brit. Just exactly was Arthur fooling?! "If I'm wrong, then what's with that in your hand there?" he pointed out.

"Huh?" Arthur questioned curiously and surprisingly. He checked his hands, and he noticed that he was holding a musket as well. The sudden change of sight shocked him, causing him to step back a couple feet. He then looked back at Alfred, who still appeared more than prepared to fight—or more so, kill—anything or anyone standing in his way without any fear. It wasn't much of a surprise for Arthur; it was typical for Alfred to make himself act rather highly more than his own good—how he always put it, a "hero's" way... Though, this was very contrary; a mere act of stupidity! Again, still typical for Alfred's very behavior, but not set at such an insane level.

"Do you dare?" Alfred challenged, his aim returning to target his _"enemy_._"_

Arthur slowly looked back at Alfred, pondering for a minute if he should really do as he'd suggested and fire at him.

Unfortunately, Alfred was beginning to grow impatient with Arthur's idle inactivity. "Just as I thought," he quietly uttered, "You're weak..."

"What?" Arthur asked, barely hearing what Alfred had said.

The fury-blinded American ignored the question. "I don't know _why_ I even chose to be with you that day so long ago," he continued, his voice growing slightly louder in volume and anger, "But I don't want to be with anyone as weak as you!"

"Why?" Arthur mocked with a scoff; he was beginning to become irritated and intolerant with Alfred's big-headed ego, "Do I taint your so-called _'hero'_ side, you delusional git?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed into a threatening glare, his lips curled to bear his teeth, and his grip on his musket tightened to make his aim more accurate. The Brit's words have offended him greatly. He remained silent for a while as his mind searched for the words to comeback at the other. It seemed long enough for Arthur to think that he had the upper-hand of the situation, but not enough to allow him to say anything to enforce it. "My hero side has nothing to do with this," Alfred claimed, "This is personal. I just don't like you, nor do I want to..."

"I don't believe you," Arthur said, debating within himself if what he was saying to be a clear point or just a way of egging the other on, "And you're plainly all talk; you haven't even done _anything_ with that damn rusty thing but target me with it!"

It was true that all this time, not once had Alfred shot the musket—not so much as a warning shot! Both sides teetered uneasily, minds sharp and alert on the other's possible actions.

"I don't care if you refuse to believe it," Alfred stated, "And don't think that I won't shoot you!"

"Then why haven't you already?" Arthur asked daringly. He wanted answers from Alfred, and he wanted them now.

Brief moments passed by as Alfred searched for the words to say. "If you die, then I wouldn't give a damn about it," he explained, "I've always wanted to be like you, Arthur, but I suppose I couldn't have been more wrong!"

"Be like me?" Arthur asked curiously. Why would Alfred want to be like him?

Faint tears began to form in Alfred's eyes, hardly noticeable to Arthur. "You've always seemed so great and powerful," the blond American explained, "Back when I hardly knew anything in the world. I listened to everything you used to say, and believed in everything you told me..." Tears grew and eventually trailed down his cheek. "Then one day, you told me to grow up strong. I believed you, and I did; I grew much stronger than you..." he continued, "And I realized just how weak and pathetic you are! I don't want to be tied down by you!"

"But it won't do any good, you twat!" Arthur reasoned, making no sense of what Alfred was babbling about. He was soon losing sense that everything that was currently happening was merely a dream.

Alfred snickered mockingly. "It will once I get rid of you," he claimed.

"And what exactly would you gain from killing me?" Arthur demanded an explanation.

"I'll put an end to it all," Alfred simply said, abstract in its meaning.

It still didn't help Arthur understand. "Quit beating around the bush and tell me something that makes sense for once about all this!" he ordered, now aiming his own musket at the young American. The two of them now stood in a duel stance, their guns facing the other, ready to shoot at a moment's instance.

Alfred glared at Arthur. "I'm sick and tired of you; everything about you!" he stated, "Nothing is more clear than that..." There was a brief silence that lasted hardly a second as Alfred thought further. "As for me hesitating to fire," he continued, "I just simply have to know from your very own words..."

"_What is he talking about?"_ Arthur wondered. He searched his mind to find out what it was that Alfred meant. What did he do to bring him in this state of mind? He mentally admitted that even he wanted to know for himself. "And what exactly is that?" he questioned.

Silence.

Another tear drifted along Alfred's cheek. "Why have you stopped caring?" he finally asked, his voice now soft and breaking. It was as painful for him to say as it was painful for Arthur to hear.

"Wha—? Why the hell would you even consider that?!" Arthur exclaimed.

Alfred finally snapped. "Isn't it obvious?!" he shouted, "All you do is insult and offend me with everything I say and do! No matter how big and strong I get, am I just nothing in your eyes; a worthless piece of shit that never fits your standards?! I could _never_ love anyone like that, especially if that 'anyone' happens to be _you_, and heaven forbid if I ever do!"

"Alfred, stop thinking up such asinine conclusions!" Arthur yelled. He knew that he had to somehow knock some sense into that thick head—and he needed to as quickly as possible; Alfred appeared as if he would shoot if Arthur were to speak even further, but the Brit decided to risk it. "You, among everyone else, should know me and my opinion about you!" he reasoned, lowering his musket to show no ill motive to the other, "And you know the truth—the real truth, Alfred!" With that, he took a couple of small steps towards him.

Alfred's hands began to shake minutely with Arthur's approach. "I've warned you to stay back!" he declared, shutting his eyes tightly, with his musket's aim still blindly focused.

_BANG!_

–

A/N ~ Yeah... Another cliffhanger for you all again. :'B;;; Quickest update I've ever made, I think. And sorry, but I couldn't find any other way to end such a dramatic chapter (you'll see a bit why in the beginning of the next chapter).

Honestly, I didn't think that the whole nightmare sequence would take up an entire chapter. Originally, I was planning to have the next chapter merged into this one as well, but then it'd just be a little too long. Besides, when I looked at it, this really seemed just fine on its own (especially with a little over 2500 words—about four-and-a-half-to-five pages, which seems to be my average)...

I'll get working on chapter four soon!


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